


of cooperation

by determination



Series: Amaurotine Cidnero [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, amaurotine!cidnero - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25695802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/determination/pseuds/determination
Summary: Prometheus inspects the design with unabashed interest. “A flying ship?” he says, slight tremor in his voice betraying his excitement.“An airship,” Zelus corrects, beaming.written for day 7 of Cidnero week as a continuation for day 5. prompt: united
Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva
Series: Amaurotine Cidnero [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863445
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Cidnero Week 2020





	of cooperation

**Author's Note:**

> i really struggled with finishing something for this day lol;;; i had written two other pieces and neither of them felt good enough. i started this one the other night, felt bad about it, then kept working on it anyway. i suppose it's decent enough to share (at least, i hope it is lol;;;;;)  
> as a refresher, amaurotine cid is prometheus, amaurotine nero is zelus. i tried to be as straightforward as i could with the idea, but if you have any questions about this au please let me know and i'll do my best to clarify ;v;

Prometheus is on his way home. The sky is a pleasant gradient of oranges and reds fading to dark blue, the clouds like painterly strokes upon a canvas overhead. He can’t help tilting his head to view the sight as he walks, catching glimpses of the sun’s last rays shining through the towering buildings of Amaurot. So tranquil, so elegant… He smiles. In moments like these, he feels blessed to live here.

“There you are,” a voice says to his left. He stops abruptly, the smile sliding off his face. Zelus is leaning against the side of the building next to him, smirking as always.

Prometheus sighs. “... How long have you been waiting there?”

Zelus shrugs and straightens, falling into step next to Prometheus as he resumes walking. “Not long. I knew you’d be leaving the Bureau soon enough.” He keeps grinning, eyeing Prometheus mischievously. “What, no objections today? I thought you’d be more annoyed. Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to treasure my companionship.”

Lately, Zelus had taken to finding Prometheus after he’d finished his work at the Bureau. It’s true that at first Prometheus had been bothered - after all, the automaton he’d accidentally crafted was still fresh on his mind, and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling flustered when the two of them were by themselves. 

“Your ego misleads you,” Prometheus answers with another sigh. “I just see no point in futilely wasting my energy. It’s not like you’ve ever bothered listening to my objections, anyway.”

Zelus shrugs again. “You’ve simply never made a good argument. See, if you spent any amount of time at the Hall of Rhetoric, maybe you’d stand a chance at convincing me to leave you alone. Maybe.”

_ Doubtful _ , Prometheus thinks. To be fair, he doesn’t really want Zelus to leave him alone. If he were honest, he does enjoy the company, though he’d never admit it aloud. If his colleagues at the Bureau knew, they’d never let him live it down. And neither would Zelus, for that matter.

To his surprise, Zelus is quiet for the remaining journey to Prometheus’ apartment. Prometheus glances over at him. Despite his face being hidden behind his mask, he thinks he detects a certain… purpose, barely visible at the corners of his lips.

“What?” Prometheus asks. Zelus startles, as if he hadn’t expected Prometheus to notice anything. “If there is aught on your mind, pray speak it.”

Zelus frowns. He takes a slow, thoughtful breath, seeming to consider something. Then, a few seconds later, he asks quietly, “Are you… busy this evening?”

Prometheus stops walking at the door to the apartment building, turning to blink at him in confusion. His heart skips a beat. What sort of question…? He shakes his head. Best not to jump to conclusions. “No, I had made no plans,” he replies. “Why?”

Still frowning, Zelus appears conflicted. After another pause, he gestures vaguely with one hand. “There’s… something I’d like to show you. Can I come in?”

The vagueness of his explanation has Prometheus suspicious. That, and he usually never has anyone in his apartment, so the idea of letting Zelus (of all people) come in is somewhat daunting. He doesn’t really have a reason to refuse, though, and he can’t deny being at least a little curious as to what Zelus’ motive is.

“I suppose,” he says, averting his gaze. “But… At the very least, give me your word that you won’t ridicule the interior design.” Or lack thereof. He wishes he could have a moment to tidy up, thinking wistfully of the various creations - some half done, some failed - strewn across the apartment in haphazard fashion. Oh well.

“Upon my honor,” Zelus smirks and bows his head.

Prometheus snorts. “What honor?” he mutters, but nonetheless he opens the building door and holds it for Zelus to follow.

“I’m plenty honorable!” Zelus huffs.

“Says the Amaurotine who deliberately disobeys dress code,” Prometheus rolls his eyes. The action is somewhat fond, which Zelus doesn’t miss, a grin spreading across his face. 

“Can you blame me? It’s a stupid code.”

Prometheus says nothing, just shakes his head as he presses the button to bring the elevator down.

Zelus has difficulty containing his enthusiasm when Prometheus leads the way to his apartment. With a deep breath, he lets them both inside. To his relief, he’d left the place in better condition than he remembered. It’s still rather messy, but it doesn’t take him that long to move things around and make space. 

When he looks back toward Zelus, ready to comment something about making himself at home, he stops with his mouth open. Zelus had removed his mask, and there is such an expression of affection in his eyes as he looks around the apartment. “Yes,” he says quietly, “how very  _ you _ .”

Prometheus feels his face grow quite warm. Too warm. He exhales shakily and pretends to be preoccupied with finishing his cleaning.

When he can no longer keep up the facade, he sighs and takes his own mask off. When he turns round again, Zelus has moved forward, laying a few sheets of paper across the (now empty) table. 

Prometheus approaches the table, curiosity piqued. “What’s that?” he asks. 

The pages are covered in design notes, scribbles and diagrams that make Prometheus’ heart pound with anticipation. It appears to be some sort of ship. 

“Something I’ve been working on,” Zelus says, sounding proud. He lowers his hood and runs his fingers through his curly blond hair. “To deal with the subway overcrowding problem. And, well, to expand travel in general, really. Relying on single passenger mounts is reductive, wouldn’t you say?”

Prometheus inspects the design with unabashed interest. “A flying ship?” he says, slight tremor in his voice betraying his excitement. 

“An  _ airship _ ,” Zelus corrects, beaming. “It’s a rough draft at the moment. I’ve no idea if it would actually work as designed, if it were created to those specifications. That’s why…” he glances at Prometheus, expression turning a bit sheepish. “That’s why I wanted your opinion. And, well… your help. Creating something of this scale is entirely outside of my abilities.”

Ah, that’s right. Prometheus recalls learning at some point recently that Zelus’ creation magicks were really rather weak. That was one of the reasons he’d so passionately pursued debating at the Hall of Rhetoric. It was one of his arguments: that those without a strong affinity for creation were looked down upon and denied their rightful place as unique individuals. 

“I didn’t know you had an interest in helping the greater good,” Prometheus says after a moment, glancing from the papers to Zelus. 

“If you believe that to be my intention, you are mistaken,” Zelus purses his lips, but his cheeks turn rosy, which makes Prometheus think he’s right, even if Zelus won’t admit it. “I found the problem perplexing, that’s all. And seeing as engineering is a personal hobby of mine, I supposed I could put that to use.”

Prometheus can’t withhold a smile as he returns his gaze to the design. “It’s quite radical,” he says. He can see the ship in his mind’s eye, the inner workings fitting together like puzzle pieces. He pictures it flying, carrying some dozen Amaurotines. “With a few adjustments, I think it could very well work.”

Zelus breaks into a satisfied grin, eyes sparkling with determination. “I knew you’d say that. So you’ll help me create a prototype, then?”

With effort, Prometheus manages to keep his creation magicks in check, lest he accidentally manage to bring the ship into existence in the small apartment and cause sizable property damage. “I’d certainly love to try,” he says with a nod. “Let me alter some of the notes first, then we can go back outside to test it.”

Nodding, Zelus retrieves a pencil from his robes and offers it to Prometheus, who accepts and begins more concisely going through the calculations in Zelus’ design. While he works, Zelus wanders around, examining the creations Prometheus had relocated. 

Prometheus does his best to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He has work to do. He shouldn’t be wasting time wondering what Zelus thinks of his creations. 

He hesitates, belatedly remembering something sort of important. A certain creation he’d left in the open in his bedroom. Should Zelus venture too far… Prometheus swallows thickly. Oh no. 

“Zelus-” he turns to warn the other man. 

It appears he’s too late. “Oi!” Zelus is clutching the automaton in his hands, eyes alight with unrestrained excitement - and amusement. “Prometheus, you scoundrel! When the blazes did you make this??” 

Prometheus’ face turns bright red, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, words failing him. He really didn’t want Zelus to see it. He didn’t want to have to explain… but he supposes he has little choice now.

“It… it was an accident,” he manages to get out, shrinking when Zelus shoots him a look. “I-I mean it! Do you really think I’d make something like that on purpose?”

That has Zelus frowning. “... What do you mean?”

As if to spite him, Prometheus’ blush brightens. “It… it was…” He hesitates, averting his gaze, desperately searching for a suitable excuse. He can’t just admit that-

“... Were you thinking about me that much?” Zelus supplies. The question is surprisingly soft, teasing in an affectionate way that makes Prometheus’ chest feel warm. He looks back toward Zelus to find him grinning. 

Prometheus lets out a flustered sigh. “... It’s possible,” he mutters. “Please do not… do not mock me.”

“Why would I?” Zelus chuckles. “It’s amazingly accurate. I’m flattered you managed this level of detail without purposefully creating it.” He sets the automaton on the table next to his blueprints, watching it emote, evidently entertained. “... Can I have it?”

“No!” Prometheus surprises himself with the vehemence of his response. He claps a hand over his mouth when Zelus raises a brow at him. “That’s… it’s…” He gulps, quickly looking away. “It’s… mine.”

“What exactly are you inferring, Prometheus?” Zelus steps closer. His tone of voice makes Prometheus’ heart race, but he can’t bring himself to look back, not until Zelus cups his chin to tilt his head up. “Does that make  _ me _ yours, as well? Considering that little fellow was created in my likeness.”

Prometheus blinks at him indignantly. He wants to protest, really he does. But those words make his whole body thrill with delight, and he finds himself thinking maybe that is what he meant, in some roundabout way. 

That’s why he can’t stop thinking about Zelus. It certainly makes sense.

“... Would that bother you?” He asks quietly. 

His honesty seems to catch Zelus off guard, his eyes widening. Soon, though, he’s beaming, looking perhaps more satisfied than he should. “Not at all,” he says, leaning closer to gently brush the tip of his nose against Prometheus’. The gesture is more intimate than anything they’ve ever done before, and it makes Prometheus’ head spin. “I rather wondered… That is to say, I’d hoped…” He releases a breathy laugh. “I thought I was wrong this whole time. You’re a difficult man to read, Prometheus.”

“You’re one to talk,” Prometheus huffs, and Zelus laughs again. “But maybe that’s what interested me in the first place.”

“Enough that you’d humor my radical designs?” Zelus hums. 

Prometheus smiles now, albeit somewhat exasperated. “And your tireless efforts to convince the Bureau that we should not, in fact, value safety above individuality.”

His remark earns a particularly hearty laugh from Zelus. “Tell me I’ve at least managed to convince  _ you _ .”

“... No,” Prometheus shakes his head. He lifts a hand to gently bat Zelus’ fingers away from his chin, turning back to the papers on the table. “And that’s why I’m glad it’s my magicks that will be creating this airship. I plan to make it as safe as possible.”

“Killjoy,” Zelus grumbles, but he’s still grinning. “You’ll at least keep with the aesthetic I prepared, won’t you?”

“We’ll see,” Prometheus says with a chuckle. “A ruby red exterior, hm?”

“It has to stand out somehow,” Zelus’ expression slips into a pout. For some reason, Prometheus finds himself thinking the color suits Zelus. 

He can’t help smiling to himself as he resumes making his adjustments to Zelus’ calculations. He’s excited. To mutually create something with Zelus. To submit their application to the Bureau, provided the prototype turns out well. 

Behind him, Zelus had come up to lean against him, arm around his waist. Beside him, the automaton sits upon the table, fiddling with its mask and smirking.


End file.
